


Come Back Home

by Anjelle



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Love, Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjelle/pseuds/Anjelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bond between a first mate and captain runs deep, none more so than between the phoenix and the most powerful man in the world. However, the circumstances surrounding their partnership were... complex. Their encounter in the Grand Line was a shock for both... for very different reasons. It all started on a little island in West Blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Back Home

**Author's Note:**

> So this story isn't even based on headcanon. It's just a random idea I had a while back and thought was interesting. I wrote this a little over half a year ago, and I have a few more chapters finished as well that I'll post when I can.

A crushing blow came to his side after he doubled over and the sweet tang of blood assaulted his taste buds as it pooled in his mouth, slowly trailing out the corner of his lips. He winced and gripped the tender skin left behind from the blow and spat the liquid out before he chanced choking on it. Looking up with squinted, agonized eyes, he made out the blurred figures of the group standing over him, laughing as the one who kicked him prepared to continue with the beating.

"Oi," called a voice off in the distance. He barely made out the distain it carried in its tone. The boys above him all turned their heads sharply, faces contorting into shock and fear. "Leave him alone," that same voice commanded sternly.

"Crap, it's Marco!" one shouted shakily.

"Run!"

They all scattered, shouting profanities and threats of getting back at him some other time, revealing a tall, lean figure approaching from where they once stood. The man had a lazy gait, walking while looking off in the direction the boys ran, shaking his head and sighing. "Kids—they're like vermin." When he stopped he crouched down. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," the boy replied, forcing himself up from his side, cringing as he disturbed the bruised flesh littering his chest.

"You're hurt," Marco stated, looking over his battered form and settling his eyes on the remnants of the trail of blood coming from his lip.

"It's okay—I can take care of myself," the kid shot back. His words went unnoted.

"Come on," the older urged, taking him into his arms and hauling him into the air like a sack of grain as he stood, allowing him to rest against his chest. He didn't seem to care for the younger's protests or squirming as he ignored them and turned around, making his way back from wherever he came from. Eventually the boy's voice fell into a mumble and he realized his words were going unheard. It was only then that Marco seemed to take an interest in them. "Hm?"

Looking shyly up into Marco's blue eyes, the boy repeated, "You don't need to do this."

At first the man was silent, his curious eyes studying the expression of the one he held in his arms. Eventually, though, he allowed a warm smile to cross his features. "I want to. What kind of older brother would I be if I didn't help you yoi?" His only answer was silence. "Though I admit you're a lot of trouble," he teased.

"Oi!"

Marco laughed as his little brother's face contorted into embarrassment.

* * *

"Hold still," the blond commanded as he dabbed at the scraped skin on his brother's bottom lip.

The boy hissed as the disinfectant stung his wound. He wasn't one for pain. Marco always teased him for it and so he tried to put up a front but it never worked very well; the man could see through anything. He hated that. It was even worse as of late. As much as he tried to conceal his emotions, his stupid pineapple of an older brother always saw through him. It wasn't fair.

Marco heaved a sigh, straightening his back to look down at the child with a knowing stare.

"W-what?" he asked sharply, recognizing that look all too well.

"What's wrong yoi?" the older asked, voice much softer than it was before.

He couldn't maintain eye contact and lowered his head, fixing his gaze on a spot on the floor. "'S nothing," he stated, knowing that his sibling already caught his lie. He didn't want to say. He didn't want to burden him.

After staring at his brother for some time, Marco collapsed on the couch beside him and allowed his body to sink into the cushion, resting his head on the back and closing his eyes. The boy stared curiously at him, waiting for him to speak, before he was finally granted his wish. "Maybe I'll stay here a while longer."

His heart sank and he felt a heavy wave of guilt slap him in the face. "…What?"

The blond's narrow eyes settled on him, looking him over before once more closing as he relaxed back into the couch. "Ten's too young to be left on your own. You need me yoi."

"No!" he shouted it retort, desperate to get his brother to change his mind. He didn't want to be a burden—didn't want to hold him back any longer. It was because of him that Marco had waited to set out on his journey, even though it had been his dream for as long as either of them could remember. He stayed behind and resigned himself to remain on the island to care for his younger sibling because they only had each other. He raised him and, as much as he hated it, was ready to give up anything for him. But the boy didn't like that. He wanted his big brother, who meant more to him than anyone else in the world, to get to leave like always wanted. "…I'll be fine."

Again, Marco sighed. "I wouldn't be saying that after getting beat up yoi."

"They started it!" he defended childishly.

"What was it about this time?"

Suddenly the room fell silent. He clenched his fists as the memories of nigh an hour earlier flashed through his mind. "…They said you were a coward."

Marco raised an eyebrow at that, giving his brother a curious glance. "Oh?" He wasn't at all fazed by the attempted insult but seemed interested in further explanation from the child.

His mouth twitched, urging him to say more even though he didn't want to. "Al's brother turned seventeen and set sail. They said that you didn't because you're too scared." He glanced up, noting the indifferent expression the older wore. He didn't seem to care, but his little brother certainly did. "They're wrong."

"Hm?"

Gripping the hem of his shirt, the boy's face twisted into remorse. "It's my fault you stayed behind. That's why I want you to leave. I'm not alone. Mira's here and…"

"You want to get rid of me that badly, yoi?" the blond teased.

"That's not—" When he looked up, he saw a bemused grin crossed the blond's face. Moments later he felt a gentle, warm hand run against his scalp, disturbing his strands as it formed a soothing gesture. He allowed it when Marco moved to grab him and seat him upon his lap, holding him close against his chest in a warm embrace. Normally he would have fought and protested but, as it were, that might have been the last time they saw each other for a long, long time. He'd allow it that once, even if he felt he was being treated like a child, because he would miss that man more than words could say. They were everything to each other.

"Thanks," Marco began. "I'll go."

"Yeah?"

"But only if you can promise you'll stay out of trouble while I'm gone, yoi," he added.

"I will!"

"Really?" There was a thick layer of disbelief lacing his tone.

"I  _will_ ," the boy repeated firmly, moving back in Marco's arms to give him a pout. He was old enough to take care of himself and he hated how his sibling always thought otherwise.

Marco's features softened and he smiled. "I'll trust you, then."

He couldn't help the tugging at his lips as joy filled him with those words and he returned the hug, taking in his warmth as strong arms enveloped him. Marco would go. He would finally set out.

…He'd miss him.

* * *

When night arrived, he found himself without sleep. Lying on his back atop his old futon, he angled his head to gawk at the night sky through the window. Moonlight seeped in from the outside world, the only thing to illuminate his dark, unfeeling chamber. For a while he didn't move and simply watched as thin, white clouds danced in front of the glowing orb in the sky.

His lip quivered.

At some point during the late, midnight hours, the weight he felt from being a burden turned to a heavy despair reminding him that, come morning, he would be alone. He couldn't remember a time when he was without his older brother—his caretaker. They were  _always_  together, from the moment of his birth. How could he live without him?

Letting out a shivering, pained breath, he reminded himself that their separation wasn't permanent. Marco's dream was to sail across the world—to conquer the Grand Line. It would only be a few years. And if Marco took too long then he could just set sail and find him! He wanted to be a pirate, too, after all. It wasn't finite. It wasn't the end. He had to think of it as a new beginning. Marco was happy and so was he.

Still, the crippling loneliness he felt in that moment stretched on into the night. Brows furrowed, he fought back the thin film of water in his eyes. He wouldn't cry. What good would crying do? He was already ten; he was too old for that. To hold back the tears he fisted the blanket over his legs. The fabric bunched in his hands and was at the mercy of his grip as it tightened until his knuckles turned white.

The moon continued to stare down at him from impossibly far away. It made him feel like he was being left behind.

Finally he had enough. He tore the sheets from his body and was quickly on his feet, walking towards the door. The floorboards creaked under his weight, a wordless reminder of his escapade. He didn't know where he was going or what he wanted to do but his legs wouldn't stop and he resigned himself to follow whatever path they took. Why not? He couldn't sleep, anyways.

At first he was brought to the kitchen, his lips parched and in need of a drink. After having his fill of water, though, he didn't move back to his room. Instead his eyes lingered over the entrance to his brother's, two sides of himself fighting over what to do next. The decision wasn't hard, though, and it wasn't long before he found himself stepping closer to the wooden slab.

Slowly the door opened. He was careful not to disturb the other as he entered and snuck to his side, looking over the stupid pineapple's blanketed figure. His whole body was covered save for a blond tuff of hair and the head attached to it. Pulling his mouth into a taut line, he looked over his brother's form, knowing that in a few more hours it would fade to nothing more than a cherished memory at the back of his mind, waiting for the day they would reunite and it could become real once more.

Apparently he wasn't as quiet as he thought because his brother turned over, revealing partially-lidded eyes and that infamous knowing look. He didn't ask any questions and simply looked the child over, coming to a silent understanding.

"Come on," he commanded in a soft, soothing voice as he raised the sheets, urging the boy to slip in next time him. He smiled when his younger sibling did just that, nestling against him. Draping an arm around his waist, the soon-to-be pirate closed his eyes. "Couldn't sleep?"

"…Yeah," the boy confessed, turning away from his brother to hide the mixed emotions he knew were visible on his face. As silence fell once more, he thought. He thought about what tomorrow would bring for the two of them and how different life would be after that last night. There was so much he wanted to say—so much on his mind. His emotions were contradicting one another, one telling him it was great that his brother was finally going to travel the world and another reminding him of how alone he would feel. He wanted to voice his concerns, but there were so many to sift through and not enough time to go through them all. Finally, he couldn't help but ask, "You'll come back someday, right?"

He felt the arm around him tighten its grip ever so slightly. "Of course," he answered with certainty.

The boy relaxed a little, allowing his muscles to release the tension that built up over the last twenty-four hours. Those two words brought him more peace than he could have hoped for, knowing that his only family would one day return. He didn't want to lose the bond they had—the one formed from staying together all of those years—because he feared he would never feel that close to anyone again.

"And you won't forget about me?"

"I won't."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Satisfied, the boy smiled. "G'night, Marco."

"Good night, Edward."

* * *

 


End file.
